


fire on your tongue

by jaemarked



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Military, Betrayal, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaemarked/pseuds/jaemarked
Summary: “Mark, right? You’re too soft,” Donghyuck says, and it sounds like advice, but it definitely isn’t friendly. “Give it up. You’re never gonna last.”Mark closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath, and pulls his hand out from Donghyuck’s grasp. His skin still tingles, fire burning in his veins beneath his wrist where Donghyuck had touched him.“I know,” he says, then walks away.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 15
Kudos: 157





	fire on your tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> i literally don't know what this is i cranked it out in two hours and it's kind of garbage but i kind of love it anyway.
> 
> this is for vic who somehow inspires all of my markhyucks.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR: non explicit sex, mentions of violence, mentions of injuries, minor character death

**day one.**

At first glance, Donghyuck seems to be made of fire.

He’s got a short fuse and a whip of a tongue that will curse a blue streak when need be. With bright orange hair and fiery, almost manic eyes that hold an eclipse in his irises, with golden skin and a burning gaze, and the nickname Full Sun, it would make sense that he is a phoenix, a god born of flames, a king of smoke and hot ash. 

A volcano waiting to erupt.

But Donghyuck isn’t made of fire. He may be a little hot-headed, and he may have a temper simmering under his skin, but Donghyuck is carved ice and freezing snow. Beautiful as a snowflake, and as sharp and deadly as an icicle. He is an unrelenting blizzard and a dangerous hailstorm wrapped in one. He’s a glacier with a beautiful, gleaming surface and more depth than you’d ever imagine. But although Donghyuck is a swirling vortex of ice and snow, he is not cold, not without reason.

This is the first thing Mark learns about him.

In fact, the first time he meets Donghyuck, with his honey skin and dusky orange hair falling into chocolate coloured eyes, he thinks of nothing except that he looks warm. And when Donghyuck pins him to the mat with a knife to his throat and fire in his eyes, he can feel the heat radiating off of him from the exertion of their match. 

“Donghyuck, one. Mark, zero.”

Mark lifts a hand and almost touches one of the thick thighs straddling his waist, but Donghyuck jumps to his feet and he realizes how weird that would be. His cheeks burn when Donghyuck reaches a hand out to help him up, and he averts his eyes to his fallen swords when he feels the leather of Donghyuck’s fingerless gloves press into his skin. He still feels the warmth of Donghyuck’s fingers when he grabs his dual swords, the metal dulled and chipped. They don’t use real weapons for sparring sessions, and they’re wearing slash resistant training uniforms, but Mark can still feel the bruises forming where Donghyuck had disarmed him and slammed the handles of his knives into his ribs.

He positions himself on the other side of the mat, one sword in each hand. Donghyuck is a dancing flame, and Mark is nothing but a moth. He loses again, though he manages to hold on for longer this time, and he shakes hands with Donghyuck and steps off the mat to lick his wounds -- or his damaged pride. Though he’s not the first to lose to Donghyuck today, and he certainly won’t be the last.

Training has just started today, and in a dog eat dog world, Donghyuck has already proved himself to be the alpha. He’s so unpredictable; his fighting style changes depending on his opponent. He’s terrifying, and Mark is drawn to him. He leans against the wall as the next trainee, Jaemin Na takes his place on the mat. He watches Donghyuck switch his knives for a long wooden staff, just as Jaemin grabs a spear. He’s so hypnotized that he doesn’t notice another trainee sidling up to him, until he turns to find fox-like eyes analyzing his face, a shark’s grin taking over his delicate features. _Trainee Renjun Huang,_ Mark recalls.

“I see you’ve lost to our resident Ice Prince too,” Renjun says, leaning against the wall. His jacket is hanging halfway off his shoulders, leaving his arms bare in the standard issue muscle tee they all wear under their uniforms. 

“Ice Prince?” Mark repeats, looking back at Donghyuck just as he knocks Jaemin off his feet with a one-eighty sweep. “Is that what you call him?”

“That’s what everyone calls him,” Renjun says cheerfully, polishing his brass knuckles on his shirt. Mark notices a tiny smear of blood before it gets wiped off, and he makes a mental note to never piss off Renjun Huang. 

“Why?” Mark asks, completely mystified. 

“He’s so cold,” Renjun says with a shrug. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? In a place like this.” _In a dog eat dog world._ The Academy wasn’t made for people with soft hearts. For people like Mark, who valued family and friendship and loyalty over all. But he was here anyway. He couldn’t imagine not wanting to give and receive love. He couldn’t imagine not being warm. 

Another trainee on Mark’s other side snorts. He’s a hefty, muscled man, at least six feet tall, and a complete asshole. Because of course, the trainee with the strongest build is a jerk. This is why they can’t have nice things.

“Nobody calls him that nickname because he’s cold,” the trainee says. Mark frowns at him, unable to remember his name. Chad? Brad? “It’s because he’s a frigid bitch.”

“Shut the fuck up, Zeke,” Renjun hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. Oh, so _that_ was his name. Wow, Mark had been way off. “Just because Hyuck doesn’t want your two inch, doesn’t mean he’s frigid.”

“But he didn’t want yours either, did he?” Zeke sneers, and if Mark thought Donghyuck was fire, then Renjun is a lightning storm. He doesn’t want to be between them right now, because Renjun’s still wearing his brass knuckles and he is clearly unafraid to knock a bitch’s teeth out.

Luckily, Zeke is called away for another match on the other side of the gym, and Mark is saved from being caught in the crossfire. It doesn’t stop him from jumping when Renjun slams his fist into the concrete wall and storms away looking like the embodiment of murder. There is a tiny web of cracks left behind.

Mark is clearly not cut out for this. He had always been too soft, and his parents had reminded him every day. They weren’t happy that their only son would rather have his nose buried in books then his fists in people’s faces, and so they sent him to the Weishen Military Academy to train as a soldier. He’s naturally athletic, and his reflexes have been finely tuned from years of sports and video games, but he is nothing like the others. He’s not a killing machine. He’s no warrior. And he is certainly nothing like Donghyuck Lee.

All who rise up against Donghyuck shall fall. Whispers slip from the mouths of every trainee about the Ice Prince that hadn’t lost a single match today. Mark stands in line at the cafeteria with his metal tray clutched in his hands, eavesdropping on the conversation happening between the trainees in front of him. He can’t stop thinking about the last match he had witnessed, Donghyuck against the asshole trainee, Zeke. He had just been beaten by Jeno Lee, one of the top trainees in the class, second only to Donghyuck. He was sitting against the wall, empty water bottle in one hand, when he heard angry swearing and turned around to see Donghyuck fighting Zeke.

The first thing he noticed was that Donghyuck was weaponless. Zeke was wielding a metal staff, long and heavy-looking, and Donghyuck was fighting him empty-handed. The second thing he noticed was how exhausted Zeke looked, tomato faced and breathing heavily as Donghyuck dodged his attacks. The third thing he noticed was that the fire in Donghyuck’s eyes had completely burned out, and in its place was a cold, cutting gaze that sent shivers down Mark’s spine, and he finally realized why Donghyuck was called the Ice Prince. 

He couldn’t look away, captivated as Donghyuck toyed with his opponent like he was a mouse under a cat’s claws, before finally bypassing Zeke’s staff and striking him so hard in the jaw that Mark imagined he heard a crack. When the trainer called Donghyuck’s point, 2 - 0 once more, he dusted his hands off and walked in Mark’s direction. For every other opponent, Donghyuck had offered a helping hand once he had beaten them, but he didn’t so much as glance Zeke’s way, leaving him sprawled on the mat. Mark cleared his throat when Donghyuck picked up his water bottle, and froze when that icy glare swivelled in his direction.

“G-good match,” Mark stuttered, cold sweat trickling down his neck.

Donghyuck blinked at him, and the lines of his face softened. He offered a smile so bright that Mark felt the air rush out of his lungs. “Thanks.”

He thinks about that smile now, as he carries his tray to an empty table in the cafeteria. It’s lonely, eating dinner by himself, but it’s only the first day. He’s sure to make friends soon. It seems like all the other trainees already knew each other. Kids as young as nine have been going to summer training camps, and that must be how all the prodigies met, but Mark had never been interested in military camp. Now, he was paying the price. 

Mark concentrates on spreading cold butter on his dinner roll, unable to get it to work without it clumping up. His plastic knife cracks and he gives up, discarding it on his tray. He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice anyone’s presence until three trays land on the table, one beside him and two in front.

Trainees Jaemin Na, Jeno Lee, and Donghyuck Lee sit down at his table, and before he could open his mouth, they’re joined by Renjun Huang, sans his brass knuckles. Everyone’s trays are piled high with food except for Donghyuck’s, which is practically empty save for a bowl of rice and a bottled protein shake.

“Mark, right?” Jaemin says, his eyes glittering with mirth and something Mark couldn’t place. “I’m Jaemin. This is Renjun, Jeno, and Donghyuck.”

“Hi,” Mark says lamely. 

“We’re top five in the class, so we thought it’d be good to stick together,” Jeno explains, and he sounds much too nice and cheerful when Mark has witnessed him literally throw his opponent across the mat. Then, his brain catches up with Jeno’s words, and he freezes.

“Top five?”

“Sure,” Renjun says, stabbing a sausage on his plate with a fork. “Haven’t you seen the leaderboard?”

Mark shakes his head, stuffs a bite of rice in his mouth. He has no idea what the leaderboard is. 

“Every day the trainees are ranked 1-100 based on performance,” Jaemin says. “Because today is the first, and people are vicious, jealous bitches, we thought it would be best to team up. Strength in numbers and all. Who knows what’s gonna happen tomorrow.”

Mark swallows harshly, putting his fork down. “I-I’m top five? How? I lost so many matches.”

“You lost four out of twenty five,” Renjun says disinterestedly, spinning a butter knife in his fingers with ease. He’s already halfway through his meal, but Mark hadn’t seen him eat. “And most of your matches lasted longer than three minutes. Well, except for when you faced Donghyuck.”

At this, Donghyuck looks up and flashes him a cool grin, one that makes Mark’s palms sweat and his cheeks heat up. “You actually lasted longer than I expected. Good reflexes. Some training and you’ll do fine.”

“How long have you been training for?” Mark manages to ask, bouncing his leg under the table. He hopes Donghyuck, sitting next to him, doesn’t notice how nervous he is. 

“Hmm, about six years, give or take,” Donghyuck answers with a wicked grin. 

“Donghyuck is the ace of the Academy,” Renjun informs him matter-of-factly. Mark remembers Zeke’s words earlier -- _but he didn’t want yours either, did he?_ \-- and wonders if Renjun might have feelings for Donghyuck.

Donghyuck snorts, but somehow that doesn’t make him any less attractive. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just got lucky.”

“That was skill,” Mark blurts before he can stop himself. “Not luck.”

He shrinks in his seat when they all turn to stare at him, but Donghyuck just bursts into laughter, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. Mark stares at the bruises on his knuckles and wishes he could see Donghyuck’s smile. 

“You flatter me,” is all Donghyuck says, and Mark reddens, turning back to his food. Jaemin taps his hand, the one that’s resting on the table, and he looks up to a sharp grin with too many teeth to be anything but intimidating.

“You know, your face is really easy to read,” Jaemin tells him, and Mark just slumps in his seat, defeated. He spends the rest of the meal listening to the others criticize, analyze, and dissect every noteworthy trainee in the room. He tries not to think about what they would say about him if he wasn’t sitting there. Donghyuck is mostly quiet too, save for a short comment about each trainee’s weakness. He had fought them for at most a couple minutes each time, but he somehow could pinpoint what every trainee lacked.

He’s terrifying, but Mark still can’t help being drawn to him.

Mark gets caught staring a couple times, and he always holds his breath, thinking that Donghyuck will call him out, or pierce his throat with a fork, or a kick in the balls. But Donghyuck just raises an eyebrow at him, a little smile playing on his lips until Mark goes back to eating.

Dinner hour is almost up when Mark finally says what he’s been dying to say since they started their meal.

“Is that all you’re gonna have?” Mark asks, pointing to Donghyuck’s tray, rice bowl emptied and protein shake downed. 

“It’s all I need,” Donghyuck says coolly, but there’s something hard in his gaze, and Mark can read between the lines. _It’s all I could afford._ Mark debates inwardly for a moment before he slides his dessert onto Donghyuck’s tray. It’s nothing big, just a small brownie square, but real chocolate is a rarity these days, and it’s expensive. Mark’s parents gave him a monthly allowance, the extent of their love and support, but Mark didn’t really care for it, so his account balance rarely decreased except for when he purchased the occasional sweet. But Donghyuck had fought hard today, and he had only eaten a bowl of rice. 

“Everyone needs dessert,” Mark says, and Donghyuck’s gaze is unreadable. Mark swallows again, an audible gulp that has his cheeks flaming, and he turns away from Donghyuck to finish the last of his dinner. 

He stands up once he’s done, his trash neatly collected in a pile on his tray to throw away, but a hand around his wrist stops him. A familiar press of leather to his skin. Donghyuck’s gaze is cold when Mark meets his eyes.

“Mark, right? You’re too soft,” Donghyuck says, and it sounds like advice, but it definitely isn’t friendly. “Give it up. You’re never gonna last.”

Mark closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath, and pulls his hand out from Donghyuck’s grasp. His skin still tingles, fire burning in his veins beneath the skin of his wrist where Donghyuck had touched him. 

“I know,” he says, then walks away.

**day one hundred.**

“Give it up, Mark. You’re never gonna last,” Donghyuck taunts. He’s got Mark’s wrists pinned together at the small of his back, and he drills into him so hard that Mark slides up the mattress. The cheap sheets rub his skin raw, and his muscles are burning, but he doesn’t want Donghyuck to stop. The whole room is heating up, and Mark is on fire. He can’t move, or speak. All he can do is drool into his pillow and pray he doesn’t burn up.

Donghyuck Lee really is good at everything.

“I…” Mark pants. “I don’t want to lose.”

“Oh, baby,” Donghyuck coos, punctuating his sentence with a sharp thrust that has Mark crying out. “You’re always gonna be second place to me.”

And that’s enough to push Mark over the edge. He shakes apart in Donghyuck’s grasp, and as soon as he’s freed, he scrambles to push Donghyuck down into the mattress despite feeling oversensitive, exhaustion tugging at the edges of his mind. 

He takes a moment to look at Donghyuck, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his skin glowing against the white cotton sheets. A small cut on his cheek from a knife duel, fully scabbed over. It does nothing to take away from his beauty. He looks absolutely ethereal in the morning light, and Mark is lucky to have him. He can’t help himself, leans down to capture Donghyuck’s lips in a heated and sloppy kiss, their mouths slick with spit.

Donghyuck may be the Ice Prince, but he melts under Mark’s touch just the same.

“I love you,” Mark gasps against Donghyuck’s lips.

“You love me?” Donghyuck asks. “Even when I’m cold? Even when I’m cruel?”

“You’re never cruel,” Mark says, and means it. 

**day one thousand, one hundred.**

There’s a knife at his throat, and he’s pinned to the ground. 

This is familiar.

Donghyuck’s weight is distributed evenly on his waist, thighs bracketing his waist, which is also familiar. Donghyuck’s gaze is cold and his expression is unreadable. Familiar. The blade digs into his flesh, and blood trickles down his neck. Donghyuck is going to kill him.

Not familiar. The Donghyuck on top of him is a stranger.

It’s been around three years since the first day they met, but Donghyuck is no longer the ace of the Academy. He had left three days before graduation and Mark found out through the grapevine that he had joined the rebellion group that had taken over the north. He hadn’t even said goodbye. 

Mark, now known as Commander Mark Lee of the Weishen Army Ground Unit 02, had been sent to the mountains by Marshal Qian with instructions to wipe out the rebels hiding in the caves. They hadn’t made it far before they were ambushed, and Mark’s entire unit had been wiped out. 

Everyone except for him. Not that it mattered, anyway. He thought he was strong. He thought he could kill. But Mark has never killed anyone, despite rising up in status, and he never will, because he had faltered when he saw Donghyuck, and that will be his downfall. 

“Why, Donghyuck?” Mark whispers. He will die anyway — he might as well receive some answers. “Why did you leave? Why did you betray us?” _Why did you betray me?_ “You were… you were the top dog of the Academy.”

“I was the Academy’s bitch,” Donghyuck snarls, and he digs the knife in deeper. Mark gasps in pain, despite the voices in his head chanting a mantra of _don’t show pain, don’t show weakness._ “You have no idea how corrupt the army is, Mark. You’ve been blinded by their teachings. They’ve poisoned your mind.”

“What are you talking about?” Mark cries, despite everything in his body screaming at him not to. He shouldn’t be listening to this. “Y-You had more faith in the Academy than anyone else! You worked so hard to stay number one and then you just left! You left Renjun, and Jaemin, and Jeno, and _me._ Why should I listen to anything you say?”

Donghyuck laughs, and it burns like frostbite. “Why do you think I left? Because the Army is _fucked,_ Mark. Do you know what goes on in the basement labs? Did you know that they’ve been genetically mutating kids? What do you think happened to Yukhei? To Yangyang and Dejun? To _Hendery_?”

Mark frowns. “Weren’t they… didn’t they get kicked out? Th-they broke the rules and…”

“No,” Donghyuck growls. “Those are just the lies that they’ve been feeding you. I’ve seen it for myself, Mark. You know how? Because I was part of the team that rescued them.”

Mark closes his eyes. Tries to compare the Donghyuck he once knew, a boy made of fire and ash, to this Donghyuck, a snowstorm trapping him in a cave, waiting to kill him. Finds that they’re two sides of the same coin. Donghyuck is fire and ice, and everything in between.

“So what do I do?” Mark croaks, opening his eyes, and Donghyuck drops the knife, looking surprised. 

“What?”

“I believe you,” Mark says tiredly. “So what do I do?”

“You run away,” Donghyuck says. “You join us. We’ll liberate the rest of the experiments and take down the Weishen Army. We’ll form a new government, one that’s not corrupt and greedy.”

“Okay,” Mark says, and Donghyuck takes his gun, his knives, and his communicator before standing up. Mark still lays on the ground. He knows his legs would be unable to hold him up. He feels like a rug was yanked out from under him. His whole world is shaken. Everything he thought he knew turned out to be a lie. 

“I have a question for you,” Donghyuck says, and he smashes the communicator to pieces, crunching it under his foot. There’s no way the Army can locate him now, so if Donghyuck decides to kill him, they won’t be able to recover his body. “When you had your gun pointed at me, why didn’t you take the shot? Why did you falter?”

Mark shrugs. “You’ve always said I’m too soft. But I could say the same for you. Why didn’t you kill me?”

Donghyuck smiles at him, and it’s warm. “I guess I’m soft, too.”

**day one thousand, one hundred, and one.**

“Marshall Qian.”

Commander Sicheng Dong of the Weishen Academy Ground Unit 01 walks into Kun Qian’s office. He’s still in uniform, his rifle strapped to his back despite the fact that the base is completely secure.

“Commander Dong. I hope you are bringing me good news,” Kun says, folding his hands on his desk.

“Yes.” Sicheng’s lips twitch; his version of a smile. “Commander Lee has infiltrated the rebels, just as you have said. They are unaware of the microchip in his neck, sir.”

“Excellent,” Kun says. “Call Jaemin Na, Renjun Huang, and Jeno Lee up to my office.”

“Sir.” Sicheng salutes the Marshal and turns on his heel, briskly leaving the office. Kun leans back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the desk. The monitor in front of him flickers to life, and the leader of the rebel group pops up on his screen. It’s a grainy image, but Kun can make out the familiar features perfectly.

“Get ready, my dear Ten,” Kun says, gently tracing the picture with his index finger. “I’m coming for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/jaemarkism)  
>  [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/jaemarked)
> 
> thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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